Page 79 of The Twins

Remo

LOS ANGELES - NOW

I liveup to my titles these days.

Dishonorable.

My girlfriend sits on my lap, purring like a tiny horny kitten, while we sip on water in a party of cocktails and whips.

Yes, whips.

It’s Tara’s birthday and my family’s first anniversary. A year isn’t enough for what our relationship feels like. I’m anchored to this woman, and with how she’s glued to my body tonight, she reciprocates the sentiment.

She wears heels and a tiny black turtleneck dress with long sleeves of lace. Since we’re in a setting of horny fucks with a masochistic streak, she covers her cruel scars.

Tara decided to come out to us—no pun intended. She revealed that she has discovered her kinky side and found a group of friends who celebrate that side of her.

For her forty-first birthday, Tara booked a club for twenty of her closest friends and acquaintances. Most of whom are in kinky relationships that make our foursome seem modest.

Grey’s thighs tempt me. I dig in my fingers, and she squirms. She chuckles in my embrace, burying her face in my neck. “Stop. Oh, don’t. Keep going.”

I squeeze, teasing her and… Well. I’m giving her bruises. It’s our little secret. I give her hurt, and she takes away mine. We spin around in this vicious circle, addicted to one another.

When I feel Grey’s hot flesh on my fingertips, I know that I’m here for a reason. I should be dead right now. I died overseas. I shouldn’t be back in California, living a happy family life. But something dragged me back out of hell.

Was it my brother’s money? The doctors he paid to bring me back to life?

Or the fact that I was meant to meet Grey?

My girlfriend holds me like she needs me to fucking breathe. This is a new development, a recent one. It’s been a couple of days, and Grey’s been sleeping in my bed only. She doesn’t let me out of her sight unless she has to go to work.

She has two other men, but I’m her focus at the moment.

She spoils me.

And I take whatever she gives me, always asking for more.

Like the spoiled brat that I am.

I feel good right now, but it won’t last. I’m not okay with that. There isn’t a lot I can do about it. Over the years, and it’s been almost two decades now, I’ve tried it all. Medication. Legal. Illegal.

I’ve worked myself to death—at times quite literally so.

That’s why Grey is perfect for me. She’s my cure on a bleak day. We balance each other out. I take most of her time because I’m the neediest out of her three boyfriends. Unlike Charles and Vegas, I require special attention.

“I should be triggered right now,” Grey says. Her head’s on my chest, and I let my heart beat to her listening pleasure. The music’s too loud. Tara’s taste in music is eclectic in our favorite genre of rock. Tonight, she’s gone for psychedelic, and my ears are having a blast. Grey’s not much of a fan, but she doesn’t focus on the music when my heart’s right there. “All those whips, chains, and toys? The submissives? A couple of years ago, I would’ve freaked. I’m not triggered, though.”

“Why?” I ask, tickling her side.

“I have no clue,” she replies. Her eyes aren’t on me, although the rest of her body is. She observes the club. My brother and Charles stand by the bar with their drinks in hand. Vegas’ hair is disheveled, but it looks styled, nonetheless.

Because.

Fucking Vegas.

I smirk.

“What?” Grey peers up at me. Her thick lashes are made from darkness so thick only the light of my girl can shine through. She’s got a light inside of her made just for me… For us.

---